Mischievous Eyes
by WoodNymph
Summary: Draco's convinced Harry has beening staring at him. Harry vehemently denies. The truth?


Typical Disclaimer: HP and everything in his world belong to the ingenious J.K. Rowling (though I would love a piece of Draco Malfoy). Go bow down to her feet, not mine. 

Warning: Slash. If you have read HP fiction, I'm sure you know what this means by now. Constructive feedback is most welcomed, but flames shall conveniently be used to roast marshmallows. 

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**Mischievous Eyes**

"So, Potter, you like watching me dance," Draco Malfoy pointed out with a smirk as soon as he approached his prey. 

"What?" Harry took a confused step away from him. "I wasn't even watching you--let alone _liking_ it!" 

"Don't try to deny it, Potter. I saw you looking at my direction." A pause. "It's so obvious that you're infatuated with me. Just admit it, and we'll go on from there," Draco continued confidently. 

This time, Harry really stared at him. "You're mad, Malfoy. I don't know what kind of drugs you're on, but it is definitely doing critical brain damage," the wary boy retorted with a snort. 

Draco snarled. "Why is it so hard for you to just admit that you like me? It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know. In fact," he stated with a proud gleam in his eyes, "it's quite understandable. Lot's of females find me attractive...not to mention a few males." 

The ensuing silence was deafening, and the eyes of The Boy Who Lived had been stretched to their widest extent. There was no lingering doubt in Harry's mind now. Malfoy had snapped from one too many failed attempts of ridding the world from the Boy-Who-Lived. Nervously, he cleared his throat. "Of course, I like you," he soothed, slowly backing away. "I mean, what's there not to like?" He tried to chuckle lightly, but ended up with a coughing fit. 

This did not go noticed by the other boy. "Look," he signed, stepping forward, "I'm still in full possession of my brain." He angrily grabbed Harry by the shoulders when he caught the boy sneaking a look around for help. "I'm not going to attack you!" 

"Doesn't look like it to me," Harry returned shakily, glancing down at the arms imprisoning him. 

His captor turned red and yanked back his hands as if hot coals had burned them. "Sorry," he muttered uneasily. "I-I just could have sworn I spotted you looking at me." 

"Well, _I_ could have sworn I _wasn't_," Harry replied with conviction. "I don't know how you could have possibly mistaken—" The thought was broken by a moment of epiphany. Eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wait a minute...just h_ow_ was I looking at you?" 

Draco started. _So Potter finally decided to 'fess up, eh?_ He smirked. "You know exactly how you were staring at me," he replied. "With lust." Draco was starting to look like the cat that just swallowed a canary whole. "You looked like you were going to jump me right on the dance fl—" 

"Shut up," Harry interrupted. "I think I know what's going on now." 

Draco glared. "Just what kind of stunt do you think you're trying to pull? You just told me—" 

"No," Harry snapped, "it's not me. Don't you get it yet? It's _her_." 

Realization smacked Draco on the head. "Oh, _her_," he spat. 

Both hot boys instantly glared up at The Writer. "You're disgusting!" Harry shouted. "How could you write that I wanted..._him_? I wouldn't touch him even if the entire human race died off and my life depended on sex!" 

If Draco was angry before, he was livid now. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, seizing Harry's collar roughly. "I'm the most shaggable thing on two feet! Have you got no taste _at all_?" 

Seeing how both boys were too busy lunging for each other's throats to notice her, The Writer surreptitiously crept away, giggling to herself. 

-_finis_- 

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A.N: This is my first tentative venture into the world of slash, which should totally explain why this story is crappy. It was not my intention to write it; it was not my intention to think it. I was just sitting at the computer, and I was bored. Very bored. Then the story kind of wrote itself. My fingers are strange, aren't they? 


End file.
